


Sleepless in Gotham

by RubyAndNanaAO3



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pick and Choose Your Canon, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyAndNanaAO3/pseuds/RubyAndNanaAO3
Summary: Cassandra Cain is suffering from reoccurring nightmares. So what is a bat to do? Stop sleeping of course!
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	Sleepless in Gotham

It’s a foggy night in Gotham city, which is just about every other night in Gotham. Gotham seems to have few moods when it comes to weather: rainy, foggy, and miserable amounts of wet, heavy snow. Bad weather is something Cassandra has grown used to since moving to Gotham, and perhaps she’s even grown fond of it. There are many things she’s come to love about Gotham, because Gotham is her home, the place where she found her family and her purpose as Batgirl. And goodness knows her life before Gotham isn’t something that brings back pleasant memories. 

Perhaps it's her past that finds her in a string of sleepless nights… well, mornings, but really, your bedroom always feels like night when your adoptive father so kindly buys you black-out blinds. It was another long night on patrol. Cassandra had showered, and she was ready for bed, or more likely laying awake for hours. But why isn’t she sleeping? A simple act of rebellion against her own brain, which is something only a Wayne would be stubborn enough to attempt. For the past week, Cassandra has been plagued by nightmares, which isn’t uncommon for her, but it's been a long while since she had a full week of them. So she simply won’t sleep. A flawless plan, if she does say so herself.

Of course, half of not sleeping is making sure the mother hen of the house, Alfred Pennyworth, doesn’t know she’s not sleeping. Cass has seen him chasing after Bruce for decent sleep, and she’s certain it applies to all the kids of the family. Of course, most of them don’t live in the manor, so if they maintain terrible sleep schedules, which she’s sure they do, they will be spared the wrath of Alfred, at least until Tim comes to family dinner and falls asleep at the table. 

Cassandra lays down, folding her arms behind her head as she looks up the ceiling. The bed is soft under her, soft and warm and… NO! Not sleeping, no, no nope. Cass shakes her head and huffs. Stupid nightmares, nightmares that never seemed to the be the same. That’s the thing about having a lot of bad things happen to you, there’s so much for your brain to choose from. Of course, most of it goes back to her biological father, David Cain. Many times it's just his treatment of her for the years they were together. Lately, it's been something else, though… 

David standing over Bruce and Bruce being bloody and very much dead. There's always a sick smile on David’s face as he stares directly at Cassandra, who can do nothing but stand paralized. It's her worst nightmare, and now she gets to see it night after night. Well, Cassandra has had enough of that, so she will lay there until it's her normal time to get out. So the hours tick by, and Cassandra stares at her ceiling, trying not to think of Bruce's beaten and bloody face until it’s the time she normally wakes. 

Cassandra drags herself out of her bed and gets dressed before heading to the kitchen, where Alfred is already waiting for her. 

“Would you like some lunch, Miss Cassandra?” Alfred asks as Cassandra sits at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Cassandra has always found Alfred’s voice extremely soothing, which isn’t helpful when she’s very tired. 

“Yes, please,” Cassandra says simply. “Grilled cheese, please.” Cassandra isn’t one for many words, but she knows the ‘Please’ goes a long way with Alfred. Alfred smiles warmly at her as he does about the kitchen making Cassandra’s sandwich as she sits quietly, enjoying his company. As Alfred cooks, the sound of footsteps approaching alerts Cassandra that Bruce is up too and sure enough, he enters the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch.

“Good afternoon, Master Bruce,” Alfred greets, setting the grilled cheese down in front of Cassandra, who thanks him. 

“Afternoon,” Bruce yawns again and sits down next to Cass. Alfred is already making Bruce a Ruben, which is his go-to afternoon lunch, at least right now. Bruce tends to go in cycles of his habitual foods. It's a small thing about him Cassandra adores. He is a creature of habit, just like her. Bruce has noted that they are similar many times, though there's always a sense of dread in his voice when he says it. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Bruce asks. Cassandra shews her bite before swallowing and awkwardly smiling at Bruce. 

“Yes,” she says simply, taking another bite and hoping she’s not developing the dark circles that were so common on Bruce or Tim or Barbara... mostly Tim. 

Bruce reaches over and puts his hand on top of Cassandra Cain with another yawn and musses up her hair. Cassandra smiles a little. It took her a while to get used to the casual, physical affection that was so common amongst her new family, but she’s come to like it very much. From what Dick told her, Bruce wasn’t always prone to physical affection either and it was Dick himself that instilled it in him. That’s not really surprising to Cass. Dick is very touchy.

“Here you are, Master Bruce,” Alfred sets the Ruben down in front of Bruce, who begins to eat. Cassandra is already done with her food, but she lingers around, simply enjoying the company of Bruce and Alfred. Alfred and Bruce are now casually chatting about some board meeting or something or another Bruce is going to be doing, something that really doesn’t interest Cassandra at all.

“Cass,” Cassandra jumps when she realizes Bruce is looking at her. 

“Huh>” Cassandra asks, blinking owlishly. 

“I asked if you confirmed with Barbara that you were going out with dinner for her tomorrow,” Bruce asks. “Are you sure you're alright? You seem a little spacey.” 

“I texted her... I think,” Cass says, and instantly realizes that the ‘I think’ isn’t helping her spacey case. 

“Well, double-check,” Bruce says, standing up and taking his plate, and Cass sinks in her chair. “You know how she gets about time. Alfred, I can do my own dishes!” Bruce shoes Alfred away from the sink as he washes off the plates and puts them up. Cassandra rolls her eyes affectionately as she leaves the kitchen, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check her texts. Sure enough, she did forget to text Barbara back. She quickly replies that she’s good for lunch tomorrow before wandering to the gym, where she usually ends up after lunch.

The family gym is well equipped with every tool a superhero could need to train themselves up. Cassandra starts with hitting and kicking some dummies, the way she normally starts. Quick kicks and punches, ending with the dummy tilting back and popping back up to just be struck again. To the untrained eye, Cassandra is performing at a wicked speed most could never hope to match, but to those who knew her, well they’d see she’s being just a little sluggish. Cassandra keeps this up until she’s built up a good sweat. Cassandra stands back and wipes sweat from her forehead. 

She looks around and sees the bars. After a patrol with Dick a few months back, she’s been making an effort to work on them more. She loves the way Dick flips about, seeming almost weightless. Cassandra walks to the bars and dusts her hand before jumping up and gripping on. Hoisting herself up, Cassandra starts to flip from bar to bar, catching as much air as she can inbetween. 

It is on the fifth or sixth flip when Cassandra notices the room isn’t the only thing that’s spinning. Suddenly, her head is doing circles and her vision blurs. Cassandra’s hand reaches out for the bar and her finger tips graze it up, though it's a far cry from her palms connecting to it. Suddenly, she was not so weightless anymore, but moreso crashing to the ground like a stone. Normally, Cassandra could easily twist and catch herself, but it’s becoming clear to her that her mind is not working quite as quickly as she would like. She prepares to hit the matted floor, but instead ,she feels two arms come up under her back and legs.

“You alright, Cass?” Cassandra looks up at her rescuer and sees Dick looking down at her, concern clear in his brilliant blue eyes. 

“Fine,” Cass says shortly as Dick sets her down. “What are you doing here?” 

“I needed to check with Bruce about something,” Dick shrugs. “You know he’s terrible about texting back, so popping in just seemed easier.” 

“I don’t like texting,” Cassandra says tersely. 

“Oh, I know you don’t,” Dick says teasingly. “But are you okay? Not like you to miss the bar.” 

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Cassandra says dismissively, though Dick doesn’t seem wholly satisfied with this answer. Dick is a worrier, despite his carefree nature. He worries about Bruce, he worries about Alfred and he worries about all his siblings. Barbara often jokes it will make him go bald someday, and Cassandra has always found the image of a bald Dick very humorous. He wouldn’t pull off the no hair-look at all. 

“Wanna help me find the old man?” Dick asks as he hands Cassandra a towel. “I thought he’d be in here, but clearly he’s not.” 

“Might be in the study,” Cassandra offers, following Dick out of the gym. The two walk down the long, winding halls of Wayne manor, Cassandra walking slightly behind Dick. 

“Where’s little D?” Dick asks, looking back over his shoulder as Cassandra. 

“Smallville,” Cassandra answers. “Spending a few weeks with Jon.” 

“Oh right,” Dick says cheerfully. “Good. Everyone needs a break from Gotham every now and again.” 

“I like Gotham,” Cassandra says simply as they both poke their heads into the study where there is no Bruce to be found. 

“Well, I think he’s playing hide and seek, then,” Dick sighs. “Where else would he be? The cave?” 

“The cave,” Cassandra confirms. Through the clock and down the twisting store stairs, Cassandra and Dick enter the Batcave, and sure enough, there is Bruce sitting at the computer bay, combing over information for one of his endless piles of cases. 

“Bruce,” Dick greets as he walks from the stairs to Bruce’s chair, leaning on the back of it in his usual manner. Cassandra hangs back, allowing herself to simply watch the two as they hammer out details of yet another Gala that Cassandra will simply not go to. Galas are always at night, and night time is for Patrol.

“Well, that’s that, then,” Dick declares with a clap of his hands. “I’m heading out. Good to see you Bruce, Cass.” Cassandra blinks, realizing she had zoned out quite hard as Dick passes her on the stairs and leans over to her. 

“You take care of yourself, okay? No pushing yourself too hard. I know you’re Bruce’s mini-me, but you don’t need all his habits,” Dick smiles and gives her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before going back up the stairs.

“What was that about?” Bruce asks, still sitting across the room. 

“He worries too much,” Cassandra says as she follows Dick up the stairs. 

***

Another night, another grueling patrol, and Cassandra is really starting to feel the lack of sleep. Another morning spent quietly pretending to sleep in her room. Cassandra isn’t quite sure how many days it's been since she decided to stop sleeping, but she thinks it might be three. Unlike most mornings, she doesn’t go to the kitchen for lunch, but instead gets dressed and goes to the garage, where Alfred is already waiting for her. 

“Off to lunch with Miss Gordon, are we?” Alfred asks, as Cass gets in the passenger seat of the car. 

“Yes,” Cass says, trying to ignore the stinging behind her eyes. Alfred starts the car as they pull away from Wayne Manor and head to downtown Gotham, where Cassandra is meeting Barbara at some trendy cafe that the redhead has been dying to try. Not that Cassandra is complaining. Barbara is one of her most favorite people, but with Cassandra patrolling Gotham every night and Barbara working with half the superhero community and leading the Birds of Prey, they see each other far less then either would like.

Alfred pulls up before the Cafe and Cassandra has already spotted Barbara, sitting at the outdoor seating, her glasses perched on her nose as she reads the paper a writes. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Cassandra says, as she gets out of the car. 

“I’m going to do the shopping,” Alfred informs. “Give me a call when you're ready to be picked up.” Cassandra nods and shuts the door behind her. 

Barbara looks up from her paper and smiles brightly at Cassandra, setting down the paper carefully. Cassandra takes a seat across from her. 

“Cass, how are you?” Barbara asks, handing Cassandra a menu. “I heard this place has amazing chocolate strawberry crepes.” 

“I like chocolate,” Cassandra says thoughtfully. Back when she lived with Barbara, she got many a lecture about her eating habits, though could Cass really be blamed when Barbara always had the freezer stocked with chocolate ice cream? 

“Are you doing alright?” Barbara asks. “Dick mentioned you took a bit of a fall yesterday.” Cassandra frowns. Of course Dick went tattling to his fianciée. 

“He worries too much,” Cassandra says with a shrug. “Everyone falls sometimes.” 

“Hmmmm,” Barbara hums as she looks at the menu. “Everyone falls, yes. It's a bigger issue when it's a building instead of bars.” 

“Well, it wasn’t a building,” Cassandra says with a hint of frustration in her voice.

“I know, I know,” Barbara says as the waitress approaches and Barbara orders for both of them. “Look, I don’t want to lecture you--” 

“Sometimes you want to,” Cassandra gives a small smirk. 

“I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Barbara ignores the comment and continues. “The work we do is taxing, you need to make sure you're getting plenty of rest and all of that. Even you can’t burn the candles at both ends forever.” 

Cassandra frowns. Barbara was right. She knows she can’t do this forever, she’s not dumb. But the image of Bruce’s bullet-wound-riddled corpse, dead vacant eyes staring at her, implores her to push it just a little further. Really, what's the worst that could happen? Luckily, Barbara drops the matter after that and Cassandra sits in a comfortable quiet, listening to Barbara talk about her latest mission with the Birds of Prey and wanting to take her dress-shopping for a bridesmaid dress. 

Once the food is eaten they sit and talk for a little longer before Cass quickly gives Alfred a call. Once the car pulls up to the curb, Barbara guides her wheelchair away from the table and joins Cass beside the car. 

“Keep and eye on her for me, Alfred,” Barbara says as Cassandra gets in the front seat and buckles herself in. 

“I always do,” Alfred smiles at Barbara as Cassandra rolls her eyes. Cassandra closes the door and watches Barbara fade behind the tinted windows. The car drives off as Alfred hums along with the song on the golden oldies radio station that he loves. 

“Was your lunch good, Miss Cassandra?” Alfred asks. 

“Yes,” Cassandra says. “I had chocolate crepes.” 

“Sounds lovely,” Alfred says, keeping his eyes on the road. They sit in comfortable silence, only Alfred’s humming and the sound of the car. It's so comfortable Cassandra can feel her eyes getting heavy. Shaking her head, Cassandra sits up straighter. 

“Alfred, can I open the window?” Cassandra asks. 

“Of course,” Alfred rolls down the window from the button on the drivers side. Cassandra leans her head against the door, making sure she’s angled so the wind hits her face in the most uncomfortable way possible. It's a miserable ride, and her lips and now chapped and her eyes burning even more, but she’s awake and that's what matters. 

***

Under her mask, Cassandra sees five thugs and as she steps back she feels her back touch Bruce’s. They are surrounded, thugs with bats and pipes all around them. Cassandra can feel Bruce tense against her and his low voice growls to her. 

“We move together, watch your back, stay alert,” Even though the mask of his Batman voice, Cassandra finds reassurance in Bruce's words. Not that she’s worried, she’s fought small armies single-handed, this should be no issue. 

Bruce moves forward, lunging at the thugs, and Cassandra follows in the opposite direction. One thug takes a swing at her and she easily ducks out of the way, jamming her elbow into his stomach as she does. As she comes up, she strikes him hard in the face, blood exploding from his nose as he goes down.

Two come at Cassandra at once, but Cassandra leaps into the air, spinning into a kick that knocks them both in the head. Dropping back to the ground, they both fall, their weapons clattering the floor with them. Cassandra looks over to Bruce to see him punching one of the men in the jaw. One punch and he’s down, which is exactly what can be said about Cassandra when the lead pipe hits her in the back. She’d been so concerned with Bruce, she forgot everything else around her, something that’s almost never happened to her. 

The ache in her back is horrid as her knees buckle and she goes to the floor. She turns raising her arms to defend and she feels the pipe strike her arms and she cries out. Bruce turns to see his daughter on her knees, arms up in defense. 

“Batgirl,” Bruce calls out as he charges the thug, slamming his shoulder into the man, sending him back. Bruce doesn’t hesitate as he grabs the man’s head and pulls it down to his knee, the collision shattering his nose instantly. 

Cassandra gets to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her arms and back as she rejoins Bruce in the fray. Soon all the thugs are laying bloody and unconscious, and Cassandra finds herself panting heavily, which is strange. She’s never felt this drained from such a simple fight. The sound of sirens drawing closer tell the two that they should be leaving quickly, and a simple grappling hook shot puts them safely up high and out of sight. 

“Are you alright,” Bruce asks, standing close to Cassandra, putting a gloved hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades where the pipe hit her. Cassandra flinches and it’s not unnoticed by Bruce. 

“I’m alright,” Cassandra says quickly. “Just bruised.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce says, walking around so he’s in front of her. “Your arms could be fractured. We should go back to the cave, have Alfred take a look at you.” 

“I’m fine,” Cassandra pushes her frustrated expression totally hidden behind her mask, unlike Bruce who’s frown is very visible and pronounced. 

“You’re hurt,” Bruce says firmly. “You aren’t going on like th--”

“You do,” Cassandra says heatedly. “All the time.” Bruce lets out a tense sign and runs his hand over the back of his head. 

“Take off your gloves,” Bruce says finally. “Let me see.” Cassandra does as she’s asked, taking off both her gloves and holding up her lower arms to Bruce. Bruises are already forming, and Bruce lets out a small hissing sound, clearly not liking what he is seeing. He takes off his own gloves and takes one of Cassandra’s arm’s in his rough, callused hands. He runs his fingers over Cassandra’s bruises, lightly pressing down on her tender skin. After a moment Bruce repeats the actions on Cassandra’s other arm before letting go. 

“I don’t think anything is broken,” Bruce says crossing his arms over his bat clad chest. “But it’s not like you to lose focus like that. Is everything alright?” 

“Why can’t I make mistakes?” Cassandra huffs pulling her gloves back on. “Tim and Steph get hurt, Dick gets hurt, you get hurt.” 

“Is this about Dick being worried about you falling off the bar,” Bruce asks. 

“Maybe,” Cassandra says, rolling her eyes, not that Bruce can see it, though something tells her he knows. 

“You set a high standard Cassandra,” Bruce says carefully. “We don’t have to worry about you much, so little things stand out, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” Cassandra states firmly. And really she is! Just because she’s tired doesn’t mean she’s not fine. It's certainly nothing worth bothering Bruce with.

“Alright,” Bruce says. “Lets keep going, then, if you’re alright too.” Cassandra simply nods, and the two leap from the roof to continue a long night in Gotham.

Alfred is waiting for the two at the cave when they return in the early morning. After fussing over Cassandra’s bruises for far longer than she feels is needed, he lets her go to have a shower. Standing under the hot water, Cassandra sighs out in contentment, the hot water running over her bruises being beyond soothing. She stands in the shower for far too long, and when she finally steps out, her eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. Cassandra doesn't even bother with PJs, she simply throws herself on her bed, and with a single blink, she is out. 

She stares in David’s eyes, his cold, cruel eyes, her body completely frozen. She hears the gunshots and watches as Bruce falls, his blue eyes fading into the empty nothing. He’s gone before he hits the ground. Cassandra wants to scream, but not a sound will come out of her mouth…

Cassandra sits up with a start, her dark eyes wide and her mouth open in a silent cry. She looks around her room, safe in Wayne manor, but still, her heart is pounding like a drum. Finally, she looks at the clock on her nightstand that sits next to the family photo and the clock tells her she hasn't even been asleep for an hour. She can’t even sleep for an hour without the dreams coming back. 

She reaches over, takes the picture off the nightstand, presses it against her bare chest and draws her knees close. A part of her wants to just tell Bruce, to seek comfort in him and just let go. But how could she possibly admit to him that something as small and childish as nightmares are getting to her? She’s lived through horrors no person can imagine. Hell, she’s even died, and Bruce is just the same. What would he think of her if she admitted to such weakness?

Cassandra looks down at the picture, where Bruce, surrounded by his children and Alfred, wearing one of his rare smiles. Cassandra runs her fingers over his face and closes her eyes breathing out heavily. She tells herself that it's okay, and if she says it enough, it will be true. 

***

Cassandra remembers, though it has been many years now, her life with David Cain. Every day devoted to training, perfecting her skills by any means. And at the end of every day, she would fall into bed, her small body physically strained, aching and burning and in the morning she would do it all again. 

It has been five days since Cassandra Cain slept, and now the strain is undeniable. Her eyes burn and water and her body aches all over. Every patrol is now a fight, not against costumed villains and mafia scum, but her own body begging to be allowed to rest. But she can’t, she can’t bear to see the image of Bruce lying dead, his vacant eyes staring at her as she is helpless to save him. And now her exhausted mind is playing a new cruel game. What if it wasn’t just Bruce? What if it was Barbara too? What if it was Alfred, Tim, Dick, Steph? 

What if it was all of them?

Cassandra has taken to drinking as much coffee as she can without drawing attention to the fact she’s drinking staggering amounts. She never minded coffee before but now the taste makes her stomach churn with every sip. Food in general isn’t setting right anymore. Everything is harder now, and it's taking everything she has to keep Alfred off her trail.

Cassandra isn’t a stupid girl. She is brash, reckless and somewhat cocky, but she’s not stupid. She knows very well this can’t last much longer, but she will fight it as long as she can. Anything to avoid seeing those fading blue eyes just a little longer. 

On the sixth night, Cassandra stops on a rooftop of one of the towering buildings in downtown Gotham, her breath coming heavy and sweat coating her forehead under her mask, making her bangs cling to her forehead. Her vision is blurring badly, and seeing out of her mask is a struggle. 

She’s split off from Bruce a while ago, knowing damn well he would notice her sluggish movements. Thank god she hasn’t seen Dick. If his alarm bells went off from her missing a bar, well, everything about her now would be turning him into a Notre Dame. Cassandra pulls off her mask and runs her gloved hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Cassandra.” She goes rigid as she hears her name spoken in a deep voice. Cassandra turns around slowly, her eyes swimming. She can see someone on the other side of the roof, a male figure. Cassandra shakes her head, words aren’t coming so easily to her now, like it used to be back when she first came to Gotham. 

“Cassandra,” The figure says it again, an intensity in the voice. Who is it? She can’t see straight, she can’t think straight, she can’t focus. 

“Stay… stay back,” Cassandra says holding up a hand. “Stay back.” She takes one step back, and then another. The figure is approaching her, she can make out a muscular, male shape, much taller and broader than her. She takes another step back. What if it's him? What if he found her, what if--

She takes another step back, except there is nothing under her foot and the weight of her body comes down on air. Cassandra lets out a gasp as she realizes, several seconds too late, that she is falling, not off a bar this time, but off a building, down towards the streets of Gotham. She feels air rushing past her face and she fumbles madly for her grappling hook, but her whole body is too rigid, too exhausted to act quickly. 

Cassandra is falling, probably to her death, and this time there’s nothing to save her. Except suddenly arms wrap around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. And then the ground doesn’t hit but instead she feels the sharp twang of her body being caught by a grappling hook she isn’t holding. Cassandra opens her eyes and looks up to see the familiar white eyes of Batman’s cowl looking down at her, one of his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close, and the other up over his head, holding onto the rope that’s hoping them back up.

Bruce clicks the button on the grappling hook that retracts the rope, pulling them both up safely on the ledge. Once there, Bruce kneels, arm still around Cassandra, who breathes out heavily, hand reaching up and resting on the bat symbol on his chest. Bruce is breathing heavily too, his shoulders trembling just a little.

“What just happened?” Bruce finally asks. 

“I thought... you were him,” Cassandra shakes her head. 

“You thought I was David,” Bruce says slowly. “Why would you think I was him?”

“I just,” Cassandra shakes her head. “I’m so tired.” 

“Are you not sleeping,” Bruce asks. 

“No,” Cassandra answers. 

“How long?” Bruce asks. Cassandra swallows the lump in her throat. 

“Six days,” Cassandra admits, feeling shame wash over her in waves. Bruce inhales sharply and Cassandra braces herself for anger but it doesn’t come. 

“Let's go home,” Bruce says simply as he stands up carefully and offers her a hand.

***

Cassandra gets out of the Batmobile and her heart sinks as she sees Barbara and Alfred waiting, both looking supremely worried. Bruce didn’t make a call in the car, so maybe he’s not as allergic to texting as Dick makes him out to be. Bruce gets out of the car and puts an arm around Cassandra, guiding her to the cot in the cave’s medbay. Once Cassandra is sitting, Bruce pulls off his cowl and looks to Barbara and Alfred. 

“She hasn’t slept in six days,” Bruce says flatly. “And she fell off a roof. So, that is where we are at.”

“How could you not notice she wasn’t sleeping?!” Barbara demands, anger so hot and clear in her voice as she grips the sides of her wheelchair so tight her knuckles turn white. “What is the point of her living with you if you’re not even going to watch her! Dick noticed from being here one day, but you miss it for almost a week!” 

“It’s not his fault,” Cassandra says quickly. “He asked. I lied and I hid it.” 

“Miss Cassandra, why wouldn’t you tell us you were having trouble sleeping?” Alfred asks. “There are many teas and medications that help with this!”

“Because… I was doing it on purpose,” Cassandra admits, looking down at her lap, rather than at the shocked faces of Barbara and Alfred. Bruce, however, doesn’t look very shocked at all, almost like the great detective has already pieced this bit together. 

“Cassandra, why would you do that?” Barbara asks, her voice much softer than it was when she was speaking to Bruce. “You have to know how terrible that is for your body!” 

“I’ve been… ,” Cassandra pauses suddenly feeling insanely stupid and ashamed to admit the reason she almost feel to her death. “I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“Nightmares,” Barbara repeats. “Cassandra, that’s no--”

“I think I can take it from here,” Bruce says suddenly. “Barbara, perhaps you can stay the rest of the night? We can talk more once Cassandra has had some rest.” 

“I’ll make up one of the guest bed rooms,” Alfred says simply. 

“Go get ready for bed,” Bruce says to Cassandra. “We’ll talk after.” Cassandra nods and slowly stands up, feeling Barbara’s worried eyes on her as she makes the walk of shame up to her room. After she’s showered and changed Cassandra sits on her bed as there is a knock on her door. 

“Come in,” Cassandra says as Bruce enters wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Bruce walks across the room and sits down on the bed next to Cassandra.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bruce asks softly, looking down at Cassandra, his eyes soft and filled with concern. 

“Because it’s stupid. Childish,” Cassandra mutters. “I’m too old to be scared of nightmares.” 

“So your solution was to just stop sleeping,” Bruce sighs out. 

“I guess that’s stupid too,” Cassandra says, defeated.

“Yes it was,” Bruce says. “And do you want to know how I know that?” 

“How?” Cassandra asks. 

“Because I did the same thing,” Bruce says with a tired smile. “Granted, I only lasted four days before Alfred figured it out. I had a recurring nightmare about the night my parents died, and I decided not sleeping was easier than seeing that over and over. And now I’m starting to understand why Barbara isn’t exactly fond of how similar we are.” 

“I always wanted to be like you,” Cassandra gives him a tired smile. 

“And I always wanted you to be better than me,” Bruce sighs out. “So what were your nightmares about?” 

“He killed you,” Cassandra says, and that’s really all she needs to say. Bruce knows exactly what she means. 

“It’s just a dream, Cassandra,” Bruce tries to assure her, but Cassandra shakes her head. 

“He could come back,” she says. 

“He could,” Bruce says. “And so could the Joker, or Two-Face, or Killer Croc. Bad things could always happen, bad things probably will happen, but you can’t live your life based on that.” 

“Says the man with contingency plans,” Cassandra huffs. 

“Says the man who said he wanted you to be better than him,” Bruce grumbles. “Do as I say, not as I do.” Cassandra rolls her eyes and Bruce smiles. 

“Alright,” he says, standing up off the edge of the bed. “Time for you to get some sleep.” Cassandra wordlessly gets under the cover, the weight of her body pulling her down against the mattress. Bruce turns to leave but Cassandra reaches out and grabs his wrist. 

“What if I have the dream again?” Cassandra asks, not being able to hide the fear in her voice. Bruce clicks his tongue lightly as he slowly walks to the other side of the bed, laying down on his back and folding his arms behind his head. 

“Then I’ll be right here,” he says simply. “And you’ll know that I’m alive.” Cassandra smiles as she closes her eyes, the darkness of her own eyelids a welcome relief she hasn’t felt in almost a week. 

As she lays in the darkness, she can hear the sound of Bruce’s steady, even breathing lulling her gently to sleep, the most peaceful sleep she has ever had. 

And when she wakes Bruce is still there, still alive and well.

And when they go down to the kitchen, Alfred and Barbara are there to greet them with strawberries and chocolate crepes.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow its been a long time since I wrote a Fic and even longer since I wrote anything batman related. I hope I did okay. 
> 
> -Nana


End file.
